


Intimate, Shared, Unspoken

by Senza_pieta



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Extremely Underage, Fucked Up Fluff, Growing Up Together, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Introspection, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Present Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:46:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2840213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senza_pieta/pseuds/Senza_pieta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd been having sex since primary school. Body and soul, Tsukishima knows Yamaguchi's needs better than his own; and, for all he claims a stoic, unspoken responsibility for them both, he suspects the reverse may hold true as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intimate, Shared, Unspoken

The evening after the decisive match against Aoba Johsai—the match that Karasuno lost, expelling them from the tournament, black wings clipped till spring—Tsukishima and Yamaguchi have real sex for the first time in nearly two months.

For Tsukishima, it feels like it's been much longer than that. He's not a carnal person by nature; or at least, he likes to believe he isn't. But some things, you simply get used to after five years. That's roughly how long he and Yamaguchi have been in a sexual relationship (even in his own mind, Tsukishima won't allow himself to call it 'dating,' and he knows Yamaguchi feels the same), yet in all that time the two haven't really been without each other's bodies for longer than a week or two at most. Even with Tsukishima's mother rarely working, and Yamaguchi's father repeatedly laid off throughout the duration, it's been shockingly easy to keep their activities a secret. The two of them, they have a lot of secrets.

"Tsukki..." Yamaguchi whines, shivering in cold and what Tsukishima suspects is oversensitivity, as the taller boy rubs ticklish circles over his partner's hipbones and sucks teasingly at well-known erogenous spots on the planes of Yamaguchi's torso. Nobody, nobody else knows Yamaguchi or his body quite like this, and they doubtless never will, to Tsukishima's pleasure. "Ts- _Tsukki,_ I...ah, ahh...!"

The words send blood flooding to Tsukishima's already-hardened dick. "Yamaguchi," he says tonelessly, knowing by now that he doesn't need to consciously inflect the words for the other boy to understand exactly what he means. It's part of what makes this arrangement so comfortable for the both of them—intimate knowledge, physical and personal, shared from years of common lived experience without being unnecessarily romantic. 

"Tsukki, I..." Yamaguchi sobs, burying his face in the pale-skinned shoulder above him to muffle the words and his whimper of pain, as Tsukishima's hands drifting behind him start to press his body open. "I l-l-lo..."

"Shh," Tsukishima soothes, pulling away from his task for a moment to lean over and kiss Yamaguchi's forehead. Tenderly, though not sweetly. "It's all right, Yamaguchi. It's fine."

He could say the words back to him. It's true enough, after all. Tsukishima loves Yamaguchi as much as he loves anyone. 

But love is not what Yamaguchi wants to hear. Tsukishima isn't a romantic person—and Yamaguchi isn't, either, for all his (very public) admiration of the other boy. So while Tsukishima knows Yamaguchi loves him, idolizes him, cares about him probably more than is remotely appropriate for a 'best friend,' it's never in a way that expects or even desires more or differently than Tsukishima would think to give him. 

They lost the game. Tsukishima knows by the skin tensed beneath his hands that Yamaguchi is furious at himself, disgraced over the single point that he lost Karasuno during his one and only game serve for the season.

And Tsukishima can't soothe away his friend's self-loathing, can't be the balm for his curious pride that's been sloughing off eggshells of mediocrity and resignation ever since Yamaguchi asked Shimada-san for serving lessons. Tsukishima could say he loves him. It wouldn't be a lie. But, those words won't mean anything to a person who knows Tsukishima as well as Yamaguchi does. So instead, Tsukishima inscribes his feelings in the way he mouths Yamaguchi's skin, presses the other boy's flesh apart to accept him when they're finally ready to keep going. Moving carefully, like he's handling something precious. 

So Yamaguchi knows that, points or not, he'll never lose Tsukishima's concern over something so comparatively meaningless as a volleyball game.

"Ya— _Yamaguchi,_ " he heaves out between biting his lips, body quivering and aching to move. "T-Tell me."

He doesn't need to clarify the meaning of his words. Yamaguchi manages to open bleary dark eyes at him, and smile through the pain. "One more second, Tsukki," he whispers shakily. Honestly, to Tsukishima's approval. "It really...hurts..."

Of course it hurts. It's been two months. They shouldn't have expected any less.

Tsukishima may never be a good lover in the traditional sense, and certainly not to Yamaguchi—who Tsukishima knows doesn't want it any other way. But, he does know the other boy as well as he does himself: knows every inch of him, every piece of his body and more bits and fragments of his soul by the day, some of which still manage to surprise him. Tsukishima knows that after two stubborn, aggravating months of refusing penetrative sex for volleyball's sake, even when Tsukishima offered to bottom, Yamaguchi won't say no to it now. Not when all those weeks of practicing his hardest without a physical compromise turned out not to have an impact, when it came to the final score.

(It did have an impact on the game. Tsukishima isn't going to deny that against his own intelligence; however the weeks of unsatisfying frottage and mouth- or handjobs may have worn down on his patience in the meantime. The two of them obviously played better without having spent an inordinate amount of physical effort and pain on sex that could have been better directed toward practice. Plus, Ukai may have caught onto them, if Yamaguchi kept missing easy serves at practice because he was concentrating on keeping his movements normal over the ache in his backside. Tsukishima is selfish, but not demanding, and Yamaguchi isn't nearly selfless enough to be bowled over. They both know by now when not to push.)

Staring down at Yamaguchi and panting as the other boy's body slowly adjusts to the length inside him, Tsukishima thinks fleetingly of how he used to be nostalgic for their first days together. When he himself had been a smug primary school student with a dirty mind and an eager, tractable new friend to test it out on, and Yamaguchi had been too starstruck to protest. Those first, awkward fumblings between are less nostalgic to him now, that Tsukishima has a reminder how much better it feels to just _have sex_ like adults instead of ten-year-olds, fumbling in the dark.

But. The aching, terrible trust he sees in Yamaguchi's eyes (even wrenched closed, even filled with pain and concentration) hasn't changed at all, not once since the first time they touched each other, huddled in blankets in front of Akiteru's laptop. Not the first time they had sex, when Tsukishima accidentally pushed too fast, too much, not realizing until it was nearly too late that Yamaguchi was biting down on his screams of pain because he thought that his being tough was what Tsukki wanted. Not when years of Tsukishima's unflinching, cold indifference on the surface would have driven a hundred others to find somebody else.

Tsukishima doesn't deserve him or his trust. Not after hurting Yamaguchi so many times, physically, emotionally, testing borders and misreading signals while the two of them were still mapping each other out. Yamaguchi hurt him, too, of course; but Yamaguchi was never the stronger of the two of them and he certainly wasn't always as strong as he is now. 

Sometimes Tsukishima forgets, just how strong Yamaguchi is now. Sometimes, part of him _wants_ to forget.

Tsukishima almost wants to protect him, in his weaker (weaker?) moments. Wants to take that pride inside Yamaguchi, the whatever-it-is that makes the other boy hate and rage and despair over a missed serve at a volleyball game, over a damned _club activity,_ crush the concern into nothing. He wants to wrap around Yamaguchi the same apathy that Tsukishima cloaked himself, years ago, upon learning his exalted Akiteru was a fake. Tsukishima wants to keep Yamaguchi, their relationship, the way things are. He wants to avoid the unknowns of the future and any contrivances that might make this... _relationship_ of theirs less familiar, straightforward, than it is right now.

But that's not protecting Yamaguchi, a voice that sounds suspiciously familiar repeats in his mind. That's only protecting himself.

"Tsukki," Yamaguchi breathes, interrupting his pointless ruminations. "It's...It's okay now, Tsukki. Y-You can move."

Tsukishima doesn't smile down at him. He's not that sort of person, after all. And they aren't lovers. He doesn't stop, because Yamaguchi doesn't want him to stop. Even when Tsukishima thinks it might be for the best.

Instead, he adjusts his body carefully, watching the contours of Yamaguchi's face, easing the pain for him the best he can. 

"Yamaguchi," he murmurs. The low, soothing hum of content against is throat is enough to tell him that he's made the right decision.

 _You can move as well, Yamaguchi,_ Tsukishima tells the other boy silently as they fuck in earnest, utterly sincere, using everything in his body but his words. _If what you want is to spread your wings, then go ahead. Move forward. It's okay._

_I'll be here._

**Author's Note:**

> dont look at me


End file.
